Affairs of the Past
by SapereAude03
Summary: The Superhero Legalization movement comes back to bite Helen when a ghost from her past discovers her whereabouts, bringing with him lasting consequences for Helen's family and marriage. Rating for sensitive topics, but nothing explicit.
1. Chapter 1

The groceries filled up the entire trunk, but Helen Parr had never really been a two trips kind of gal. She threaded her arms through the handles, though she resisted the urge to stretch even as the bags pushed against each other. She didn't want to crush the bread and the bananas, but their new neighbor, Freida Glasgow, was a regular Mrs. Kravitz, always looking out the windows and spying on their house. She'd caught Dash sprinting to make the school bus a couple weeks ago, and since then, Helen couldn't go more than a few hours without seeing her beady eyes and beehive hair peeking through the curtains. If they weren't careful, their cover would be blown again, and they'd have to move for the third time in less than a year.

Helen pushed the last bag on her arm and closed the trunk with a grunt. The new house was larger than their first, and though it was much, _much_ smaller than the second, it had an upstairs level, a large garage, and a decent sized lawn. The long, low roof swooped at a gentle angle from the second story all the way to the ground, forming a kind of asymmetrical, geometric arch over the front door. They could have afforded something bigger, but nosy-neighbors not-withstanding, Helen was happy with their purchase. It was inconspicuous in its ordinariness, surrounded as it was by dozens of other similar, suburban homes. They were close to the schools — close enough that the buses skipped this neighborhood and Bob would be picking the kids up soon. They were also closer to Lucius and Honey's apartment in the city, and though Dash had enjoyed the spaciousness of Winston's proffered house, Helen knew the rest of the family liked the cozier feeling they found here.

Once in the garage, she extended her wrist to close the garage door and push open the mandoor. She threw her keys in the bowl by the door and set off for the kitchen.

"Hello, Helen."

The low, lilting voice startled her, and the bags clattered to the floor as Helen retracted her arms and instinctually brought her fists up to her face.

There was a man on their new sofa: tall and rail-thin. His immaculate dark suit matched his greying black hair, and narrow blue eyes peered at her through a long, hawkish face. In his hand, he held one of her wine glasses, half-filled with red wine. He swirled the liquid and took a long, nonchalant sip, seemingly indifferent to her shock.

"Xerek," Helen breathed, the blood rushing from her face.

His thin lips curled upwards in a way that — a lifetime ago — would have caused her heart to flutter, but now it brought with it only terror.

"Miss me?"


	2. Chapter 2

Helen couldn't have felt more winded if someone had punched her in the stomach, but she finally found her voice, though she hated how thin it sounded.

"What are you doing here?"

Xerek hadn't moved, but he crossed a leg over his knee and leaned his arms along the back of the sofa. It made him seem taller, more imposing, even as he remained sitting.

"No hello? Helen, I'm hurt."

His flippant words jolted Helen from her shock and sent a shot of anger through her midsection. He always had known how to get under her skin, and instead of just standing there, Helen searched for something to do to avoid looking at him. Which wasn't difficult given that the contents of a dozen grocery bags were leaking onto her parquet floors.

She stalked out of the living room, grabbed the garbage can in the kitchen, and returned, refusing to look at the ghost from her past or break the silence. Not that she had to.

"You never did like to mince words, did you?" Xerek's British accent lilted along, almost as if he were singing rather than talking. "Yes, you were always more ... action-oriented than that? A doer, not a talker. I remember that."

She couldn't stand how intimate he was making it sound. She threw the bananas away, then the egg carton, not even bothering to look inside. She tossed the glass pieces that had been a jar of spaghetti sauce before returning to the kitchen to grab a towel to wipe up the red mess. This time, Xerek waited for her to speak.

"Why are you here?"

He swirled the wine in his glass again before gesturing towards her with it. "You can't know how very glad I was to hear that the Superhero Legislation passed, and even more so when I found out that you were instrumental in its success. Well, it didn't take long to figure out that Elastigirl — or is it just Mrs. Incredible now? — was still active in Metroville. It was almost as if you wanted me to find you."

"I didn't think anything of it," she said, calmly. She threw the red and saturated towel in the kitchen sink and replaced the garbage can underneath. "I haven't thought about you in years."

"Oh, I don't believe that," he said, quirking an eyebrow and grinning into the glass. Helen pursed her lips together, refusing to respond. He swallowed a gulp of what was probably Bob's 1948 Bordeaux, and exhaled loudly.

"I've been doing a bit of research."

"What makes you think I care?"

"This concerns you, Helen."

"My concerns are none of yours," she said, but a knot curled uneasily in her stomach.

"You know that's not true." Xerek stood up from the sofa, habitually rebuttoned his suit jacket, and slid toward the fireplace. Reaching up to the mantle, he trailed his slender finger over the frame housing their family photo. It had been taken on a recent trip to visit Helen's parents in Georgia, and she felt sick as he touched it. "Have you told him about us?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"So, you haven't told him." Xerek's lips quirked in triumph, and she hated him for it. He picked up the frame and studied the photograph. "He's never suspected? She doesn't exactly look like him."

"She looks like my grandmother." That's what her mother had always said.

"Is that what you've told yourself all these years?"

"It's the truth."

"And yet that doesn't preclude there being multiple factors at work."

"You're insane."

He shrugged. "Perhaps so. Life's a lot more fun that way." He returned the frame to the mantle, reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver handkerchief. Wiping his fingers, he said in a more pointed voice, "How old is she?"

"Leave her out of this."

"She's the whole reason for this," he said, thrusting the handkerchief back into his pocket and sitting back on the sofa. "She's fifteen, isn't she. Just celebrated a birthday, didn't she."

"She's not yours, Xerek," Helen said forcefully.

"The timeline fits."

"It's just coincidence."

"That's a pathetic attempt to convince yourself."

"She has powers."

She wasn't expecting the sly smile that spread across his face. "Does she now?"

She didn't know how to respond.

"Why are you fighting this?" Xerek continued, his voice smooth and calm, as if he'd won a prize. "As I recall, we spent a very enjoyable evening the last time we saw each other."

Helen felt her heartrate rising. "That's not how I remember it."

"What do you remember?" he asked.

Helen's fingernails dug into her clenched palms, but she had nothing to say.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" Xerek chuckled lowly. "I would be hurt if I took that as a reflection upon me, but you'd had a lot to drink that night."

"I don't remember that either." Helen glared at him, completely dismissing his version of events.

"Really," Xerek said, his brows furrowed as if in confusion. "You must have been further gone than I thought."

"I agreed to one drink," she said. "One."

Xerek shrugged. "You always were a lightweight."

"I don't think so. You drugged me. You must have." It was the only explanation for what had happened.

Xerek stood again at the accusation. "Now, Helen, I'm surprised at you." His voice was soft, placating, as if speaking to a child. He began moving around the coffee table toward her, but Helen refused to move. "I invited you to have a drink so that we could toast your recent nuptials. My intentions were pure; I admit I was surprised to find that your intentions were less so."

He was close enough now that she had to look up to maintain eye contact. "That's a lie. I was always completely committed to my marriage."

"Well, no one's perfect, my dear. We all have our weaknesses."

He reached out and touched her arm, and Helen wrenched herself away. "I'm done, Xerek. I don't know what happened that night, but I will not let you come into my house and insult me or my marriage."

His pale blue eyes bore into her, seemed to pierce through her. The wine glass was still in his hand, and Xerek downed the rest of its contents before placing it gently on the coffee table.

"I'm not here to berate you, Helen." He brushed an invisible piece of lint from his suit jacket and began moving toward the door. "I'll leave. But you cannot hide from the truth. And I don't know why you'd want to."

He reached for the door handle just as it opened, and the knot in Helen's stomach twisted as her husband sang out, "Honey, I'm home!"

"Bob!" That meant the kids ...

"Whoa!" Bob stumbled, nearly colliding with Xerek, and reached over to protect Jack-Jack, whom he carried in one arm. Jack-Jack giggled happily at the unexpected vertigo, but when he caught sight of Xerek he pulled away apprehensively, brows furrowing and his smile transforming into an exaggerated frown.

Her husband recovered quickly. "Oh! Hello. I don't think we've met." He extended a large hand toward the other man, who waved it away with his rail-thin hand, managing to appear somehow polite and disinterested at the same time. "I'm Bob."

"Xerek."

"Xerek," Bob said, pulling back his hand. "That's an interesting name."

"I'm an interesting person."

Helen tried not to show her discomfort as Bob looked her way and then back at the intruder in their house. "And you know Helen, how?"

"He's an old acquaintance," she said quickly, moving forward to stand near Bob. But she knew Xerek wouldn't leave it alone.

"Helen, don't be ridiculous. We're old friends." And he walked over to her and wrapped his arm around her back. "In fact, you could say I'm more like family."

This time Helen did wince, at Xerek's words as much as at Bob's shocked expression at his arm around her. Bob studied her face, and when he noticed her distress, he straightened up to his full height and cast suspicious eyes on the other man. "Funny that Helen's never mentioned you."

He moved out of the entryway to ensure that he wasn't blocked in, that he had room to move, but his eyes never left Xerek.

"Indeed," Xerek said, as if he couldn't believe it. "That was silly of her. There's really no reason to be keeping secrets, is there, Helen?"

She didn't have a chance to respond — and wouldn't have known what to say even if she did — because the door opened again, and Helen's eyes widened in fear.

"Mo-om! Dash ate the chocolate bar I was saving for Tony!" Violet's shrill voice drew everyone's attention.

"He owes me a quarter any—!"

Helen didn't let Dash finish. Sensing something was about to happen, she dove for Violet just as Xerek moved next to her. He leapt at her daughter, but Helen was there instead, and suddenly, she felt herself sucked into a void, falling and spinning at breakneck speed through darkness, faster and faster, until she slammed on her back into a hard, concrete floor.

She couldn't draw in a breath. For the second time that afternoon, she was utterly winded, and she gasped and coughed violently as her body struggled for air.

"You bitch!"

Even in her oxygen deprived mind, the crude epithet stung. Xerek was next to her, breathing heavily but looking less disoriented. He stood, towering over her, as she struggled to speak.

"You have powers?" Helen gasped, unable to move from the floor. Her vision was darkening, pushing in on her.

"Surprise," Xerek intoned darkly. "Does that convince you yet?"

"No," whispered Helen, but it was in more denial than disbelief and she welcomed the blissful darkness that overtook her.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack-Jack was the first to break the stunned silence.

"Mama?"

"Where'd they go?" Dash asked, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Dad?" Violet knew her voice sounded utterly spooked. She'd raised her hands up to her face in defense — no time to even create a forceshield — and only now dropped them to her side. "What's going on?"

Her father's mouth was still hanging open.

"I ... I have no idea," he said, as though he couldn't even believe what he had seen.

Suddenly, Jack-Jack vanished from her father's arm.

"Mama!" they heard him call, ghostly and echoey, clearly having assumed that his mother had disappeared into one of the alternate dimensions that only he could travel through. Within seconds though, he reappeared on the rug where she had vanished, his eyes wide and his lip trembling. "Mama?"

Violet picked up the baby and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him as best she could.

"Who was that guy? Dad?" Dash asked, more loudly this time. "Do you know him?"

Their father's initial shock and confusion seemed to melt away, and Violet was comforted by the calm, determined sound of his voice.

"Violet," he said. "Watch Jack-Jack. Both of you, stay in the house and lock the doors. I have to call Dicker."

Helen inhaled a breath of icy air and awoke in shock.

No!

Her arms moved to her face on instinct, ready to rip away the pair of goggles that were surely there. She felt nothing but her own freezing skin, but she also realized that her wrists were individually bound in some kind of rubbery material that felt just as cold as the air around her. Further exploration revealed that the same substance surrounded each one of her ankles and there were also bands around her neck like a choker and midsection like a belt. And, she realized grimly, each of those bands were connected by a strip of the same material running up her arms, legs, and torso.

Given recent events, she had a pretty good idea what its purpose was. She tried to stretch only her right index finger forward, but she had anticipated pain and she was not disappointed. An icy burning that started at the rubbery band on her wrist trailed down to her finger and then back up her arm, and she clenched her fist in agony. After what felt like hours but was probably mere seconds, the debilitating pain finally receded, and she was left breathing heavily, her breath crystalizing in front of her. 

She was in a freezer, that much she could tell. Save for a few internal lightbulbs that cast an eerie blue glow over the scene, the only light filtered in from a frosted window, but it was enough for her to see the ice coating the walls and icicles hanging from the ceiling. And now that the shock was wearing off, she realized that her body was shaking violently all over.

The shock also brought with it a throbbing pain radiating from the back of her head, and reached her hands around — the rubbery exoskeleton was firm but moved with her limbs —and she felt a short but deep cut approaching the base of her skull. She must have landed on something when Xerek ... teleported them.

That didn't make sense. In the year that they were together, he hadn't had powers, or at least, he'd never shown her. What possible reason could he have had to keep his powers from her? They had been ... they had been close.

She pressed around the gash, trying to determine whether the object that had caused the cut was still lodged inside. She felt nothing, but as she probed, a sharp pain shot through her skull. She let out an agonized hiss just as the light from the window dimmed, and a tall figure appeared outside. The door opened and Xerek entered, looking cool and collected once again in his immaculate double-breasted suit.

Helen couldn't help but think that he seemed particularly suited for this chilly venue. The hazy blue lighting complimented his pale skin and light eyes. The Iceman cometh, she thought contemptuously.

"Good. You're awake." Xerek shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, and Helen continued to shiver in her capris pants and spring top. "I assume you've already tested your powers?"

"Wha-what did you do to me?" Helen said, her teeth chattering.

"I told you I was doing research. As I looked into the Superhero Legalization movement, I found out about a friend of yours. Fascinating woman, that Ms. Deavor. It's difficult not to respect someone who thinks so ... long-term. A woman after my own heart, though I doubt she'd be interested in me."

"Too bad." Helen glowered at him. "You'd be perfect for each other."

He smirked and then opened the heavy door again. "Would you like to remove to a less glacial environment?"

Helen huffed. "You sure you want to do that? I'm less of a threat in here."

Xerek's lips quirked knowingly. "I beg to disagree. You see, the substance you've just encountered is a rubber-based polymer I recently developed based on Ms. Deavor's research. At room temperature, the material is easily pliable, but it quickly hardens when exposed to the cold. Once that happens, it maintains that freezing temperature for far longer than normal even after returned to a habitable environment. It slowly releases the cold into the body of the wearer — specifically, you — chilling your muscles while not causing hypothermia. It's durable, adaptable, and the perfect way to nullify your powers."

"Charming," Helen muttered, though the thought that this product took advantage of her only major weakness terrified her. "It's almost like you were expecting me—" she scowled at him— "instead of trying to kidnap my daughter."

"Perhaps subconsciously I knew that you would try to thwart my plans."

"Last time I checked, I succeeded," said Helen, infinitely grateful that she was here and not Violet.

"For now," Xerek crooned. "I'll take care of that little matter later."

"What do you want her for?" Helen asked, disturbed by his determined words. She didn't want an answer, but she needed to know.

"She's my daughter," Xerek said, but the words were detached and clinical. "After fifteen years, she deserves to know that."

"She's not —" Helen broke off. Nausea swelled in her stomach, and she clenched her teeth, her body flooding with hot anger in spite of the frigid air. "Why do you care?"

"You know I wanted a family with you."

She scowled at him.

"Yeah, well, you've only got yourself to blame," she spat. "That ship sailed when you aligned yourself with Hitler."

Bob's heart pounded as the phone rang and rang on the other line. He heard Dash say that he would check the locks and then a faint _whoosh_ as his son raced through their house. Not that that would do a lick of good if that man — Xerek — decided to teleport back.

The ringing continued.

Jack-Jack called for his mother again, and Bob tuned out his voice.

Stay focused. He tapped his desk his shaking fingers.

Come on, he thought. Pick up.

Finally, the call connected, and the slow, familiar voice came through the receiver.

"Dicker."

"Rick, what do you know about a guy named Xerek?"

"Bob?" 

"Yeah," Bob said, impatiently. "Xerek. What do you know?"

The NSA agent's silence on the other line was disturbing.

"Rick?"

"What's going on, Bob?"

"He took Helen. Came to our house and just vanished." He fisted his hand in his thinning hair. "Who is he?"

"He vanished?" Dicker repeated. "Like ... superpower vanished?"

Bob spoke slowly and clearly, "Who is he?"

"A businessman. Real name: Derek Thorne." Bob could hear a file cabinet opening and clothing in the background. "Uh ... he ran a medical technology company called Xedatron Industries. He was involved in all types of humanitarian relief efforts around the world; he figured out how to cure blindness with computer chips implanted in the brain, and his scientists discovered cures for several diseases affecting communities in Africa."

"A Super?"

"Not as far as I know."

"And Helen?"

"They were ... an item for nearly a year."

Damn it.

Bob clenched his fist so hard the knuckles popped. Every bone in his body wanted to punch something, but he simply lowered his shaking arm to the tabletop.

He had thought ... but he didn't want to believe it.

"Bob?"

Bob breathed out a slow ragged breath, trying to quiet his pounding heart.

"Tell me what happened."

"Helen, we've exhausted this conversation a dozen times," Xerek said. "Hitler was a monster..."

"And you supported him!" Her voice echoed around the empty freezer.

"No!" He pointed a long, narrow finger at her. "Let's be clear. I supported the programs that he initiated that dealt with how to encourage the best physical and mental well-being in next generation of the German people. Nothing more."

"They were breeding experiments." She had seen the reports with Xerek's own affirmative annotations in the margins.

"And I dealt in medical technology," Xerek said, not a lick of remorse in his voice. "His findings could have revolutionized our understanding of health and wellness."

"At what cost?"

A beat fell, and Xerek's eyes narrowed. "Obviously, at great cost to me."

"What's this got to do with Helen?"

"She found out," Dicker said. "Xerek supported the Lebensborn experiments in exchange for Hitler's findings. Helen discovered the documents in his office, and she blew the whistle on his involvement."

"She went public?" Bob hadn't heard any of this. 

"You were still in Poland with Frozone, helping with the clean-up from the war. But, here, the media had a heyday, as you can imagine. 'World Famous Humanitarian Revealed a Nazi.' He lost everything — his business, his license — but he vanished before the police were able to take him into custody."

"Vanished ... as in ..."

"As in Super powers, yeah." The tone of Dicker's voice was tinged with guilt, with failure. "Or at least that's the way it felt. The NSA put our full resources out searching for him, but to no avail. We transferred Helen to Municiberg shortly there-after, and —"

"I transferred in shortly after that," Bob said softly. "I had no idea. She never said anything."

"She was embarrassed," Rick said knowingly. "She'd unknowingly aligned herself with a villain and it came back to bite her."

Yeah, well, that pretty much described their current situation. Bob couldn't stop the anger that pooled in his gut. They had said no more sneaking around after Syndrome. No more secrets. Those had been Helen's words, and he'd agreed. The anger mixed with the sick taste of betrayal, and Bob thought he was going to throw up, but he swallowed hard and shoved the feeling away.

"Bob? You still there?"

He pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, the red and black garment immediately visible.

"Where would he have taken her?" He grabbed the suit. "What do I need to do to get her back?"


	4. Chapter 4

"I can see that we're never going to see eye to eye on this matter." Xerek took his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together vigorously.

"If yo-you mean that you're never going to convince me that you were justified in helping fund the human experiments of a genocidal tyrant, you're completely right." Helen was shaking violently, but from the rage or the cold, she couldn't tell.

"Quite so," Xerek said, refusing to respond. He thrust his hands back into his pockets. "But then, your stubbornness was always your most attractive feature."

"Stop it."

"Well—" he cocked his head, thinking — " _one_ of your most attractive —"

"That's enough!" If she could have stretched, she would have punched him. She may have to deal with Xerek against her will, but she didn't have to tolerate his comments.

"As you wish," he said easily, as if he'd been doing her a favor with his remarks. Then he clapped his hands together in a jovial manner. "But as long as you're here, we might as well make the most of it." He walked toward her and extended one hand. "I wouldn't want you to get the idea that I'm inhospitable, so if you would join me, Helen..."

The last thing Helen wanted to go was go anywhere with him, but as she was still shivering uncontrollably, she needed to get out of the freezer. She was unnaturally stiff as she got her legs under her, but she was not going to give Xerek her hand. He stood there, unmoving as she pushed herself to her feet, the freezing, rubbery exoskeleton firm against her limbs but still able to move with her.

Helen brushed passed Xerek and out the door, welcoming the warmth of room temperature. As far as she could tell, they were still in the same room they had apparated into. Hard, smooth concrete for the floors and walls, clinical metal tables with bright hanging lights — it was a lab of some kind, but given its emptiness, it was obvious that it hadn't been utilized for a long while. Empty, that was, except for the sturdy wooden table that clearly didn't belong, and its deep red tablecloth, bowls of food, and places set for two.

Xerek walked around her and moved to the closest chair. He pulled it out and gestured to the seat.

"Join me."

"Do I have a choice?"

He smirked, a grin that was not malicious, but still spoke of the power he held. Helen had learned long ago that he meant it. "What do you think?"

She pursed her lips and walked to the table. She sat gingerly on the edge of the seat, and Xerek pushed the chair in before moving to the other side.

Helen took note of the food in front of her and tried to ignore her rumbling stomach. There was a tossed salad and a fruit bowl filled with apples in the center, a plate of fresh bread and a chicken dish in a sauce that was meant to be served over rice.

"What can I get for you?" Xerek said, as if they were out on the town, and she looked away, focusing on a crack in the grey concrete wall.

"I'm not hungry."

She might have to sit here, but he was nuts if he thought that she was going to pretend that this was a date, much less ingest food and drink prepared by him. Not after what happened the last time.

"Still," he said. "You need to eat."

Xerek motioned toward the fruit bowl, and looking back, Helen caught sight of a nearly indistinguishable wave that rippled through the air. It hit the apple sitting on top of the rest of the fruit, and it fell toward her, rolling between her plate and her wine glass before she let it drop to the ground.

"Gravity wells," Xerek said, clearly pleased with his display.

"Well, that's appropriate." Helen muttered. And before she could convince herself that it was smarter to keep her mouth shut she said, "You always did repulse people. Now you can just do it on purpose."

She caught a flash of something in Xerek's eyes: dangerous, unpredictable, and then it dissipated, replaced with a cool smile.

"Did your daughter inherit your wit?" he asked, sipping on his wine.

More than you know, Helen thought, but she fell silent, unwilling to give him anything more than he already knew.

Xerek shrugged. "No matter. I'm a patient man; I'll find out sooner rather than later."

Helen resisted the urge to shudder, but chalked it up to the still freezing exoskeleton that was nullifying her powers. The last thing that she wanted to do was talk about her daughter, but she still needed to know what he was intending.

She took a deep breath and exhaled fully before asking, "Why don't you go get her?"

Xerek looked up. He seemed surprised that she had furthered the conversation herself.

"Metroville isn't exactly in the neighborhood," he said. He began cutting up the chicken on his plate.

"That didn't stop you before," Helen said. "I know you can teleport." 

"And as your little cage demonstrates, powers often come with limitations," he said, chewing around his food.

"You can't do it again?"

He paused while he swallowed. "Let's just say that for jumps of that magnitude, I have to save it until I really need it." 

Helen eyes narrowed. Never had she heard of a Super who had such limitations when using their powers. Powers could be draining, energy wise, but to only be able to use the power once before that ability was depleted was strange.

But before she could ask about it, there was a knock on the door of the lab.

Xerek sat up, as if in anticipation, and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Fortunately," he said, standing, "that's not the plan."

A short man in an oversized lab jacket entered. "Sir, it's ready."

"You're sure?" 

"Positive." He handed a small box to Xerek. "Though we didn't anticipate having the program ready this quickly, all that was needed was the proper incentive."

Xerek smirked. "Isn't that always the case?"

The scientist shuffled out of the room, the door echoing as it slammed shut.

Xerek still stood. He took the cover off of the box and pulled out a small, rectangular item. Xerek fingered it appreciatively, and Helen's insides clenched in apprehension.

"What is that?"

"A remote."

"For what?"

"There's a repurposed fighter plane on the roof," he said, examining the buttons on his device. "It's fast, stealthy, maneuverable. You used to fly them during the war, I believe."

"Why are you telling me this?" 

He looked up, his pale eyes directed right at her. "You will go and find our daughter and bring her here."

He was insane.

"What on earth would compel me to do that?"

"Dearest Helen, I think you'll find yourself compelled quite easily." He flipped a switch on the side of the remote and a red light flashed brightly. "Do you remember the computer chips I created to cure blindness?"

"What does tha—" Helen paled, and her hand moved to the back of her head. To the cut directly above the occipital lobe.

"No."

Xerek smiled.

"Fascinating woman, that Ms. Deavor," he said, fiddling with a dial on the remote. "Her study into hypnotism has advanced the field by decades."

"Xerek ... don't! Please!"

"She made one fatal mistake though."

Helen stood up, knocking her chair over in her instinctual attempt to escape. Her gaze whipped wildly around the room, futilely searching for a way to escape what was going to happen.

Xerek pointed the remote at her as if she was a television screen.

"She shouldn't have created goggles that were so easily removed."

"No!" she yelled.

Her face screwed up as she clenched her eyes shut, but it would be no defense.

Violet.

He pressed the button, and Helen froze in place.


	5. Chapter 5

The corded phone in the bedroom just reached the dresser, and Bob held it between his shoulder and chin as he grabbed Helen's supersuit, meticulously pressed and folded, as he knew it would be.

For the second time in the last twenty minutes, he willed the other line to connect. Dicker had told him where Xerek's old lab was — someplace outside New York City — but the newly sanctioned NSA was still being reconfigured and reinstated, and he had no way to get him across the country, so Bob was calling in a favor.

"Helen?" The tinny voice brought back so many memories. "It's good to hear from you —" 

"Snug, it's me."

"Bob?"

"Yeah, long time no see." It had been; Helen had kept in touch, but Bob hadn't talked to Snug since their wedding. "Look, Helen's been kidnapped, and I need transportation. Can you hook me up?"

There was no hesitation. "For Helen? I'll pilot you myself."

Bob had had a feeling he'd say that. His wife had that effect on people.

"I'll be at the Municiberg Airport in an hour," Snug said. "Where are we going?"

"New York," Bob answered. "Be prepared for anything."

Violet didn't consider herself a master of stealth, but she was learning. Invisibility gave her the unique ability to sneak around, but she still needed to hone her actual sneaking skills. She thought back to the unfortunate incident on the Everjust where she foolishly knocked over a plant and almost got hypnotized for it. That wouldn't happen again.

Her balance wasn't the best, but she'd been doing yoga every morning to improve. Tony had been a Boy Scout and had taught her how to walk silently by putting one foot in front of the other and transferring her weight evenly as she moved.

And now she was putting it to the test. Her dad was going to find her mom, and she was coming with. Not that he knew that yet. He had told them to put their suits on under their clothes and that they'd be staying with Uncle Lucius. The trip into Municiberg had been quiet, everyone ignoring the empty front passenger seat. They'd parked the car — Dad locked the doors, Violet noticed — and made their way up five flights of stairs to the immaculate apartment. Honey had been there with hugs and snacks but while she and Lucius talked with their dad, Violet had cornered Dash and told him that she was going with him to find Mom. When Dash had wanted to come, she reminded him that they couldn't all sneak out together, but she needed him to swipe the car keys. He did so easily — sometimes it scared her the things that they could get away with — and Violet hid her street clothes under the guest room bed.

Hiding herself from view, she took the key and snuck out the front door just as Dash announced that Jack-Jack could stick his entire foot in his mouth. She made her way down the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could, flattening herself into a corner as another resident made his way up the stairwell.

Once he was out of sight, she raced off, less worried about making any sound than that Dad would be coming down the stairs any moment. She slowed again when she got to the lobby and waited for a woman to exit the revolving glass doors so that she could jump into the next compartment.

Outside, it was easier to move without being worried about noise, and she ran to the car parked on the adjacent street. She looked around, trying to find a moment when she wouldn't be noticed, and unlocked the front door. She scrambled over the seat and into the back, trying desperately to slow her pounding heart.

She called up her yoga techniques to quiet her breathing.

Deep breaths ... in ... and out ... in ... and out.

She'd have to be perfectly silent once her father got into the car, and she still didn't know if it would be possible to follow him, wherever he was going.

But she had to try.

Something big was going on, and when he'd emerged from his den, her father's determined face only partially masked how spooked he really was. And it wasn't just the fact that Mom was gone ... it was that man, with the dark hair and the unnerving, pale blue eyes. Violet shuddered. He'd tried to grab her, but her mom had been there instead.

She'd placed her head to closed door and heard him talking to Dicker. Xerek, that was his name. And her mom had been connected to him somehow. Not just professionally, not just like he was her superhero arch-nemesis, but ... Violet swallowed. Personally.

She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about any of that in relation to her parents. But ... it could explain a lot.

It wasn't something that she thought about. Not really. But they'd learned about genetics in 7th grade, and Mr. Axl had told them to bring in pictures of their families.

Violet remembered sitting at the table in the science room before class, smiling at her new photo. Mom had gotten it developed especially for this assignment. It had been the first family picture they'd taken when she and Jack-Jack had come home from the hospital only two weeks before. They'd set up the camera in the living room and then crowded together on the sofa. Dash had his arms crossed and looked a little put out, Violet noticed; he'd told Dad that he was sad that he wouldn't be the baby of the family anymore. Violet, though, was staring at Jack-Jack, who was asleep in her mother's arms. A little tuft of spiky red hair was already visible on the top of his head. He didn't have any powers, but he was perfect, and Violet loved him so much.

"Is that your family?" A different flash of red hair crowded in on Violet's field of vision, and she instinctually pulled away. Her seatmate, Teddy, had buckteeth and terrible breath to go with them. She drew the photo closer to her, but he leaned over and grabbed it away.

"Don't touch that!" Violet tried to keep her voice down. She didn't like being the center of attention, but she didn't want him to damage the picture. "You'll get fingerprints on it!"

Teddy held it away from her and looked at her family. Then he turned back to her. "None of them have black hair."

"So?" She tried to swipe the picture from him, but he slid it across the table to their tall, blond tablemate.

"Hey Scott! Look! Violet must be adopted or something." Liz and Penny looked over at his words, and Violet blushed behind her wall of dark hair.

"I am not!" she hissed.

Scott picked up the picture and studied it like Teddy had. He looked at Violet and then back at the image before saying, "If you're not adopted, then that must not be your real father."

He slid the photo back to her. She glowered at him. "He is too my real father."

"Genetics don't lie," Scott said with a shrug. "You don't get black hair from red and blond."

Violet grabbed the photo and stuck it back in her bag. She hated them. She hated Teddy with his buckteeth and Scott for his oily, smudgy fingers. She couldn't believe what they had said; she wouldn't believe that.

But the thought had never really left her mind.

Violet tried to swallow against the lump in her throat. She wanted to know, and at the same time, she was afraid of the answer. But she couldn't turn back now even if she wanted.

She could see her father rounding the corner of the apartment building. He was running; he hadn't run before.

Violet clenched her fists together, determined that this would work. The key cut into her palm, and Violet's eyes widened.

She still had the key!

Her father was crossing the street now, darting between two oncoming cars, and already reaching into his pocket. Panicking, Violet lobbed the key over the center console and it landed on the front seat.

Her father's brow furrowed, and he patted each of his other pockets before looking inside the car. His eyes widened when he saw it inside, but his alarm dissipated when he tried the door and it opened easily.

He grabbed the key and slid into the car. But he didn't turn it on.

He just sat there in complete silence before reaching up and adjusting the rearview mirror. She could see his eyes looking her way.

Violet held her breath.

"Vi, I know you're there."

Disappointment of the strongest variety washed over her, and as she slumped back on the seat she allowed herself to be seen.

"How did you know?" Violet crossed her arms and met his eyes sourly.

"I always lock the doors," he said. "Otherwise, you might have gotten away with it."

"I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Dad, I want to help."

"I'm not having this conversation," her father said. "I need to go, so I need you to go back inside."

"Who is he?" Violet spoke over him, determined that she wouldn't be shut out so quickly.

Her dad swallowed hard. "He's just someone that your mother knew when she was younger."

"Why did he try to take me?"

"I don't know."

"Is he my father?" She blurted it out before she could even stop to think.

Her dad placed his shoulder on the back of the seat and turned to look at her. He looked pale, but his lack of surprise told her that he'd already asked the same question. "Why on earth would you think that?"

Violet rolled her eyes because it was the most obvious reason in the world. "Don't you think I've noticed I don't look like you?" she said. "We've studied genetics in biology, Dad. It's not rocket science."

"You look like your great-grandmother."

Violet raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. That's what she'd always been told, but she'd never been completely convinced, and she really didn't think he was convinced now.

He sighed, and in that moment, he looked older than she'd ever seen him. "I don't know, Vi. I don't know who he is or what he wants." He reached over to pick up her hand, and it was so small and unsubstantial next to his. He looked up, and his blue eyes held hers firmly. "But what I do know is that I am your father, and that nothing is ever going to change that. No matter what."

Violet felt a weight rise off her chest that she hadn't even realized was there, and she leaned forward to wrap her arms around her father's neck. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too." She felt his arms wrap around her back, strong and sure and loving, and she didn't doubt him at all.

"So I can come?" She infused her voice with a lightheartedness, hoping to capitalize on their tender moment.

"Nice try." When her father pulled back, his face was serious. "I don't know where your mother is, but I'm not going to be able to focus on looking for her if I have to worry about you."

She wanted to say that she could take care of herself, but she knew that wouldn't matter. He'd still be thinking about her and not how to rescue Mom, which was what all of his focus needed to be on. 

"Okay," she said. "Go and find her, Dad."

"I will," he said, squeezing her hand. "I promise."

Violet smiled, never doubting that either, and moved to get out of the car.

"Um ... Vi?"

She pulled back, hoping he had changed his mind. "Yeah, Dad?"

He made a general gesture at her. "You might want to ... disappear."

She looked down.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. The suit. "Right!"

She flashed him a thumbs up before she hid herself, opened the car door and raced back to the apartment.


End file.
